


Sweet-Blooded

by vondrostes



Category: Dunkirk (2017), Dunkirk (2017) RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bad Dirty Talk, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry, Canon Compliant, Clothed Sex, Dirty Talk, Feminine Harry, Fluff and Smut, Harry Styles in a Dress, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Roleplay, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 20:24:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18676798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vondrostes/pseuds/vondrostes
Summary: “What’s the absolute filthiest fantasy you have?”





	Sweet-Blooded

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to try whittling down my Requests in the next few weeks, so here is one that's long overdue! 
> 
> Warning: there are dubcon elements included as part of a roleplay scenario. Everything is consensual, but the language used during the scene might be triggering if you are sensitive to this sort of thing.
> 
> Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s  
> Tumblr: @vondrostes

“What’s the absolute filthiest fantasy you have?”

Jack blinked himself awake as he tried to process Harry’s question in the darkness of the bedroom in his London flat, still shamefully bare even after some months now of being technically moved in. “Well, I’m not into people shitting on me, if that’s what you mean,” he replied in a sleep-garbled voice.

They didn’t had the chance to spend the night in the same bed very often, but on nearly half those occasions, Harry had done something like this, asking an inane question just as Jack was finally slipping into unconsciousness.

Harry snorted. “Thank god for that,” he replied dryly. “Though I’d like to think I wouldn’t judge you for it if you were.”

“What’s _your_ filthiest fantasy?” Jack asked, trying to deflect.

It didn’t work as well as he’d hoped. “I have to pick just one?” Harry teased. “Besides, I asked you first.”

“Well, I don’t know that I’m even into anything weird.”

“Everyone’s into something weird, Jack.”

Jack flipped over to face Harry even though he couldn’t actually see him that well. They usually slept back to back after Jack had done his duty in letting Harry be the little spoon while they cuddled; both of them ran hot and sleeping any closer to each other was just uncomfortable.

“Well?” Harry prompted, refusing to give Jack an inch.

Jack sighed. “I dunno. Really, I’ve not got a clue.”

Harry huffed out a displeased little sound, apparently frustrated that Jack was spoiling his game. “How about I quiz you?” he suggested instead. “I’ll give you a fantasy I’m into and you can rate it from one to ten?” As he spoke, he snaked his fingers into Jack’s boxers, working them around his still-soft cock and tugging lightly in an effort to warm him up.

“Okay,” Jack replied, his breath catching in his throat. He was fairly certain that Harry’s hand on his knob was enough of a motivator that he’d agree to anything.

Harry hummed as he slowly stroked Jack, building up the anticipation before he finally offered his first question. “Roleplay,” he said finally.

“Are you asking that because I’m an actor?” Jack replied. He earned an uncomfortable squeeze in return. “Augh, fine, it depends.”

“On?”

“What kind of roleplay it is,” Jack said, thinking privately to himself that the answer should have been obvious. But Harry was strange like that, always demanding clarity from others, never offering any himself.

“Teacher-student?” Harry tried.

“Zero out of ten,” Jack replied decisively. He had no interest in even thinking about school, especially not in the bedroom.

“What about like…a hot nurse and a wounded soldier?”

“I’m the wounded soldier?” Jack asked.

“Mhmm.”

“Maybe like…an eight?” Jack could feel his face heating up a little with that admission, but Harry didn’t laugh or make any sort of comment whatsoever, simply continuing on to the next scenario without pausing.

“Pregnancy.”

Jack paused and did his best not to physically squirm. “Six,” he decided, before just as quickly changing his mind. “No, seven.”

Harry hummed again in acknowledgment, but again made no direct comment. “Virginity?”

“You mean like, where I’m pretending to take someone’s virginity,” Jack clarified, his cheeks burning something fierce now.

“Yup.”

It took a good thirty seconds for Jack to find his voice. “Ten?” he said quietly.

Harry scooted closer in the darkness. “So if I were to pretend to be all helpless and innocent,” he said, his hand moving faster now, “that would get you hot and bothered?”

“Might do, yeah,” Jack managed to answer in a choked-out voice.

“Next time, then,” Harry replied, and that was all it took before Jack was spilling into his hand, his breath loud and ragged between them as he buried his face against Harry’s throat.

Next time was a long time coming, as it turned out. They were both busy people—Jack even busier now than he had been before Dunkirk—and it was almost impossible to get their schedules to line up long enough to have a quick chat over lunch, let alone spend an afternoon rolling around in bed together.

By the time they both had the opportunity to meet up again for something more than a meal, Jack had long since forgotten about what Harry had said to him in bed months ago. But Harry hadn’t.

They tumbled into the master bedroom at Harry’s house in London connected at their mouths, Jack’s hands already halfway down Harry’s trousers by the time he pulled them both down onto the bed. They hadn’t exchanged a single word since Harry had met Jack at his front door, and Jack was content to leave it at that. They’d been through this enough times that conversation wasn’t strictly necessary anymore.

But then Harry pulled away suddenly. He retreated back into the nest of pillows adorning the ornate headboard, his eyes wide in realization. “This is the next time,” he said cryptically.

Jack frowned as he struggled to catch his breath. “What?”

Harry’s face creased into a wounded expression. Evidently, not instantly being able to parse the meaning of his bewildering statement meant Jack had failed him on a deeply personal level. “You don’t remember?” he prompted. “When we talked about your fantasies? Before?”

Jack’s mouth dropped open. “Oh,” he replied dumbly. He had forgotten, but it didn’t take more than Harry’s vague reminder for the memory to come rushing right back. “Yeah,” he said. “I remember.”

Harry’s expression remained dubious. “We don’t have to,” he offered as an easy out.

Jack shook his head fervently and sat up a little straighter. “No,” he replied. “No, I mean, I want that.” He was tripping over his words in his nervousness now, but Harry seemed to get the gist of what he was trying to say.

Harry’s face brightened at hearing Jack’s words, and he leaned down to kiss him again.

“What’s the set-up, then?” Jack asked as they parted. “Prom night? Throwing our inhibitions to the wind after a few wine coolers?”

The joke didn’t land. Harry gave Jack a disappointed frown as he opened his mouth to answer. “It was your fantasy, too,” Harry reminded him, as though he’d thought Jack was intending to make fun of him rather than poorly attempting to inject some levity into the situation.

“Sorry,” Jack hastily apologised. “I just feel strange about it still. Doesn’t help that I have no bleeding clue what I’m doing.”

Harry scoffed. “You’re an actor,” he pointed out.

“Actors have lines,” Jack shot back.

“You want me to write you a script so we can fuck each other senseless?”

“A starting point would be nice,” Jack said.

Harry wrinkled his nose and sat back a little. “What about, like…an arranged marriage?” he offered slowly, his expression still tense and uncertain. “I’m the chaste, virgin princess from a far away land, and you’re the dashing warrior king I’ve been promised to?”

Jack was careful to keep his face neutral as he answered. “I’d never say no to a period piece,” he replied.

Harry’s face creased into a small smile. “We should have costumes,” he said brightly as he leapt off the bed to go to his closet on the far side of the room.

Jack was tempted to protest, but he figured he’d wounded Harry’s delicate sensibilities enough for one afternoon. It was easier to go along with the idea, and Jack didn’t regret doing so as much as he expected when Harry came back with nothing more than a loose ruffled shirt that looked like it was part of a pirate costume and a pair of black leather trousers.

“You probably shouldn’t put those on all the way,” Harry instructed as he handed the trousers over to Jack. There was a shopping bag in his left hand, but he was holding it at such an angle that it was impossible to make out what was inside. “I’ll be right back,” he added once Jack had taken his clothes, before ducking into the adjoining bathroom, presumably to get changed himself.

Jack waited until the door closed behind Harry before hopping out of bed to try and squeeze himself into Harry’s clothes. They weren’t too far apart in height, but Jack had definitely bulked up a bit since filming Dunkirk, and that fact was all too apparent as he struggled to pull the leather trousers up over his thighs. He left them open, as Harry had advised, and climbed back into Harry’s bed, lying down against the pillows again and slowly wanking himself off as he waited for Harry to emerge from the bathroom.

Finally, the door opened a few minutes later, and Harry’s head peeked out, wide-eyed as he stared down at Jack’s exposed cock.

There were a few seconds of tense silence in which Jack wasn’t sure who was supposed to make the first move, but when Harry didn’t take even a single step forward, he decided to seize the initiative.

“Come here,” Jack ordered. Thank god for theatre training, he thought to himself when it came out sounding about as authoritative as he’d intended.

Harry’s eyes widened even more as he finally crept out of the bathroom, revealing his own costume change: a floor length chiffon gown in peach, cinched at the waist and loose enough in the bodice that Jack could see one of Harry’s nipples peeking around the edge of the fabric. He moved forward slowly, reluctantly, playing his part perfectly, and stopped at the edge of the bed next to Jack.

“Are you scared?” Jack asked him.

Harry nodded as he lifted his eyes to meet Jack’s gaze.

Instead of peppering him with reassurances, Jack reached up to yank Harry down into a rough, claiming kiss, bruising both their lips in the process as he coaxed Harry’s mouth open so he could slip his tongue inside. They’d kissed more times than Jack could count in the past, but Harry put up a good fight this time, squirming and wriggling in Jack’s hold like he really was overwhelmed just by having someone else’s lips on his own.

“Your ladies in waiting,” Jack said once they broke apart, “did they tell you what to expect? How to pleasure a man?” The line sounded cornier once it was out of his head and lingering in the air, but Harry didn’t break character.

“Yes,” Harry replied, his eyes darting toward where Jack still held his cock in his hand. “But I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“I know,” Jack said as he pulled Harry down into another kiss. This one was shorter than the first, and Jack released Harry just as soon as their mouths separated. “Get on the bed,” he ordered.

Harry, despite his feigned reluctance, was quick to obey. He crawled onto the mattress between Jack’s knees, his mouth already hanging open in poorly suppressed anticipation. Jack couldn’t fault him for that slip-up, though.

“I don’t know what to do,” Harry told him as he knelt between Jack’s spread thighs.

“Don’t worry,” Jack replied. “I have a feeling you’ll be a natural.” It was a quip he couldn’t resist making, but Jack regretted it slightly when Harry gave him a sharp look in response. Evidently, commitment to their characterisation was vital.

Jack smoothed over the brief moment of awkwardness by reaching forward to guide Harry down onto your cock. “Open your mouth,” he instructed. He was less surprised than he should’ve been when Harry grazed his teeth teasingly along the shaft as he sank down about halfway onto Jack’s cock, far less than Jack knew he was capable of taking. Jack hissed. “Go slow,” he reminded Harry. “Use your hands, too.”

Harry wrapped his palm around the base of Jack’s cock with notable apprehensiveness and bobbed up and down a few times, never going further than the halfway point he’d set for himself. Then suddenly, his hand disappeared, and Harry’s head was sinking down even further, but instead of the masterful deepthroating Jack had become accustomed to in the past, he encountered a distinct resistance at the back of Harry’s throat as he forced himself to gag on Jack’s cock.

Jack grabbed Harry by the hair instinctively and pulled him off. “You should be more careful,” he said before letting Harry go again.

Harry didn’t listen to him when he took Jack’s cock back into his mouth, swallowing it down into his throat almost instantly and allowing the muscles there to flutter and convulse around the head of Jack’s cock in a way that had him seeing stars by the time Harry finally pulled off again.

When Harry came up for air, there were tears in his eyes, and Jack was surprised to discover that he found the sight even more arousing in addition to everything else. He wondered briefly if that meant something was wrong with him before dismissing the thought from his mind in favour of dragging Harry up into his lap so he could more easily roll them over.

With their positions reversed, Harry’s expression returned to that of a frightened rabbit, his eyes the size of dinner plates as he stared at Jack above him.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” Jack asked.

Harry shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “It’s forbidden.”

The reply was so over the top that Jack almost lost his composure for a moment, but somehow he managed to reign in the laughter threatening to burst out of his chest as he traced a finger down the hollow of Harry’s throat, trembling with soft, panting breaths as he lay underneath Jack’s body.

“Then you’ve never had a finger inside you,” Jack surmised.

Harry didn’t respond, but Jack took his silence as the cue to continue. He slid further down the bed, parting Harry’s thighs with his hands and sliding the hemline of his gown up over his knees. Jack slid a hand inside blindly and followed the line of Harry’s thigh up to his groin, finding a familiar slickness pooled there between his legs.

“You’re wet already,” Jack said, the comment coming unbidden to his lips, almost as a force of habit, but Harry’s expression didn’t change for the worse.

Jack worked a finger into him slowly and carefully measured the minute reactions in Harry’s expression as he pressed deeper inside. Harry winced once he was in up to the knuckle, and Jack paused automatically before realising it was part of the act.

“It might hurt a little,” Jack told him, feeling like he was filming a cheesy porno now, “but it’ll get better, I promise.”

Harry nodded for him to continue, and Jack slid his finger out so he could slip in a second alongside. This time Harry’s reaction was even more theatrical: a loud gasp as he tensed up around the intrusion, causing Jack to pause until Harry relaxed enough again to let him in.

Harry’s reaction when Jack pressed against his prostate, however, was all real, the jolt of surprise as his breath hitched in his throat as familiar to Jack as breathing now. Jack pushed against that spot a little harder, yanking a soft whine from Harry’s throat before relieving some of the pressure so he could fuck Harry open with his fingers instead. He’d intended only to finger Harry long enough to make it seem real, but now that Jack had Harry writhing on two of his fingers, he couldn’t seem to make himself stop.

It was only when Harry’s breathing started to quicken as Jack coaxed him toward his impending orgasm that he managed to pull his fingers out.

“No,” Harry protested, and Jack wasn’t even sure if he was acting anymore. “Please.”

“Not yet,” Jack said. “Want you to come for the first time while I’m inside you.”

Harry’s eyes widened again like he’d just now realised what the point of having Jack’s fingers inside him had been. He stared down in trepidation at Jack’s cock as Jack slid the leather trousers a bit further down his thighs, not confident in his ability to take them off without resorting to doing some kind of gymnastics in the process, which he thought might ruin the mood a bit.

Jack edged closer to Harry, his cock in hand and aimed at Harry’s hole, but it wasn’t until he’d kissed the edge of it with the tip of his cock that Harry tried to shy away.

“It’s too big,” Harry cried out. “I can’t.”

Jack grabbed at Harry’s hip, keeping him in place as he repositioned himself. “You can,” he reassured Harry as he snubbed his cock against Harry’s entrance once more. “You were made to take this,” he said. “Made for me.” He pushed in with one slow and steady thrust, surprised at how tight Harry was before realising that Harry was clenching down on purpose to make it harder to penetrate him. Jack felt like he was feeding his cock into a steel vice, and found himself worried for a moment that he might actually hurt Harry in the process of fucking him.

But Jack kept going, pushing inexorably forward with his eyes trained on Harry’s face as Harry’s body remained taut underneath him.

“Feel so full,” Harry panted out encouragingly as Jack moved even deeper. “Please, I need—ah!” He cut himself off as Jack bottomed out inside him with a grunt.

Jack only gave him a second or two to adjust before pulling out again and fucking in twice as hard, picking up the pace with every thrust until the bed was shaking underneath them. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” Jack hissed, and it wasn’t an act. Harry was still clamping down hard around his cock, clenched so tightly that Jack was half-worried he’d rip his cock right off. “Not gonna last,” he panted as he leaned down next to Harry’s head. “Want you to come for me.”

“I can’t,” Harry protested weakly. “I don’t know how.”

Jack didn’t reply, instead hitching Harry’s legs up over his elbows so he had the leverage to drive into him even harder, until Harry was shuddering and sobbing and practically screaming in his ear, almost too loud to be real, but Jack could feel the muscles in Harry’s thighs tensing up under his hands as he got closer.

Jack hadn’t thought it possible, but somehow Harry got even noisier when he reached a hand down to wank him off. Harry spurted onto his stomach just as Jack finally slipped over the edge himself, spilling into the hot clutch of Harry’s body with a drawn-out groan, bitten off against the meat of Harry’s shoulder with enough force to bruise.

Jack would catch hell for leaving a mark later, he was sure of it, but until they came apart, Jack wasn’t Jack and Harry wasn’t Harry, and keeping secrets didn’t matter.

His eyes shut tight, head buried in the sweat-damp curls above Harry’s ear, Jack laid there motionless on top of Harry, his cock slowly softening until finally it slipped out with a quiet sigh from Harry’s lips. When Harry didn’t make any attempt to move, Jack took that as a sign that clean-up was his responsibility, and he quickly got up to retrieve a towel to put under Harry’s arse as well as some heated wipes to give them both a quick wash before they resumed cuddling.

“You’re okay, right?” Jack double-checked after they’d lain there in silence for a few minutes. “I didn’t cross any lines?”

“Not any that I didn’t want you to cross,” Harry replied cheekily.

Jack lifted his head enough to raise his eyebrows at Harry, wondering what he meant by that.

Harry didn’t elaborate, however. He yawned instead and let his eyes drift shut as he remarked, “We should do that again.”

Jack snorted. “Is this going to become a thing for us, then?”

Harry’s eyes opened just a fraction, barely more than slits as he peered up at Jack. “I’m game if you are,” he said sleepily.

“As if I could ever say no to you,” Jack replied with a sigh.

Harry shook his head and squirmed a bit in Jack’s hold. “You make it sound like a bad thing,” he grumbled, but Jack could tell he wasn’t actually upset.

“Not bad,” Jack reassured him anyway, “just certain.” He kissed Harry soundly on the lips before pressing his own to Harry’s forehead in turn, finally extricating himself from the bed with a loud groan as he stretched his arms up over his head. “Cheese toasties for dinner?” he offered.

Harry nodded eagerly. “I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

“Yes,” Jack replied in a dry voice. “Clearly, it wasn’t for my superior acting abilities.”

Harry rolled his eyes and kicked out a foot to gently nudge Jack in the direction of the bedroom door. “I’m hungry now,” he insisted. “Early dinner.”

Jack, who was well-used to Harry resorting to caveman-speech after sex if he didn’t manage a quick nap, dropped into an elaborate bow, all-too aware of how ridiculous it must have looked in Harry’s ill-fitting leather trousers, still not fastened at the waist. “Anything for Her Highness,” he replied with a laugh, and Jack found himself thinking that the smile on Harry’s face in response was worth a million times more than his dignity.  


End file.
